Duane felt his face burn with a tide of hot blood. Almost he felt that he was guilty of such motive. Had he not been unable to put this Ray Longstreth out of his mind? There seemed to be scorn in her eyes now. And somehow that checked his embarrassment. “Miss Longstreth, will you let me search the house?” he asked. “No.” “Then--I regret to say--I'll do so without your permission.” “You'll not dare!” she flashed. She stood erect, her bosom swelling. “Pardon me, yes, I will.” “Who are you?” she demanded, suddenly. “I'm a Texas Ranger,” replied Duane. “A TEXAS RANGER!” she echoed. Floyd Lawson's dark face turned pale. “Miss Longstreth, I don't need warrants to search houses,” said Duane. “I'm sorry to annoy you. I'd prefer to have your permission. A ruffian has taken refuge here--in your father's house. He's hidden somewhere. May I look for him?” “If you are indeed a ranger.” Duane produced his papers. Miss Longstreth haughtily refused to look at them. “Miss Longstreth, I've come to make Fairdale a safer, cleaner, better place for women and children. I don't wonder at your resentment. But to doubt me--insult me. Some day you may be sorry.” Floyd Lawson made a violent motion with his hands. “All stuff! Cousin, go on with your party. I'll take a couple of cowboys and go with this--this Texas Ranger.” “Thanks,” said Duane, coolly, as he eyed Lawson. “Perhaps you'll be able to find Snecker quicker than I could.” “What do you mean?” demanded Lawson, and now he grew livid. Evidently he was a man of fierce quick passions. “Don't quarrel,” said Miss Longstreth. “Floyd, you go with him. Please hurry. I'll be nervous till--the man's found or you're sure there's not one.” They started with several cowboys to search the house. They went through the rooms searching, calling out, peering into dark places. It struck Duane more than forcibly that Lawson did all the calling. He was hurried, too, tried to keep in the lead. Duane wondered if he knew his voice would be recognized by the hiding man. Be that as it might, it was Duane who peered into a dark corner and then, with a gun leveled, said “Come out!” He came forth into the flare--a tall, slim, dark-faced youth, wearing sombrero, blouse and trousers. Duane collared him before any of the others could move and held the gun close enough to make him shrink. But he did not impress Duane as being frightened just then; nevertheless, he had a clammy face, the pallid look of a man who had just gotten over a shock. He peered into Duane's face, then into that of the cowboy next to him, then into Lawson's, and if ever in Duane's life he beheld relief it was then. That was all Duane needed to know, but he meant to find out more if he could. “Who're you?” asked Duane, quietly. “Bo Snecker,” he said. “What'd you hide here for?” He appeared to grow sullen. “Reckoned I'd be as safe in Longstreth's as anywheres.”